


even if all of me dies

by PhantomFlutist



Series: My deep wounds don't heal [3]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Implied Future Character Death, M/M, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4407296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomFlutist/pseuds/PhantomFlutist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thick maroon scarf is wrapped around his neck. Jaehwan recognizes it; it's one that Wonshik gave Hongbin for Christmas the first year they were together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	even if all of me dies

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the wait! This is the last of the trilogy, following ["if my world stops turning"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4236774) and ["words might not be enough"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4120363).

  
People are invading his room again. They do that a lot, lately, because Hakyeon is still concerned about Wonshik. At this point they’re _all_ worried about Wonshik. He only goes to class when someone makes him, he barely eats, and he hasn’t composed a note in weeks. He’s devastated over what Hongbin did to him, and Jaehwan can’t even tell him why it happened.

Hongbin is dying, and he didn’t want Wonshik to have to watch him go.

Jaehwan pulls on his coat as he watches Hakyeon go over to Wonshik’s prone form on the bed and pat his ass a few times to get him up. Jaehwan’s pretty sure it’s not going to be that easy, having experienced it himself, but he doesn’t say anything. Let Hakyeon deal with Wonshik for a while; Jaehwan has someplace to be.

When he shoves his phone and his wallet in his pockets and heads for the door, Sanghyuk calls after him, “Jaehwan-hyung, where are you going?”

Jaehwan turns to waggle his fingers at Sanghyuk in lieu of a wave. “Sorry, Sanghyukkie, but I have an appointment.”

He hears the others grumbling that he always has an appointment lately, but then he’s walking out and the door is closing behind him and he can’t hear them anymore. He knows what they think—that he’s dating someone and doesn’t want Wonshik to know because he’s already upset—but they’re wrong. Though, he supposes, they are right about one thing.

When Jaehwan reaches the parking lot, Hongbin is already leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette and somehow looking like he’s not being frozen by the biting wind. He’s wearing a heavy knit cap, the same one he always wears these days, and a thick maroon scarf is wrapped around his neck. Jaehwan recognizes the scarf; it’s one that Wonshik gave Hongbin for Christmas the first year they were together.

Jaehwan rounds the car to unlock it and scolds, “Those things are bad for you.”

Hongbin snorts, dropping the cigarette butt on the ground and crushing it with his shoe before climbing into the car beside Jaehwan. “I’ve got eleven months to live, hyung. I’m not exactly concerned about lung cancer.”

Jaehwan just sighs at him as he pulls out of the parking space. The others are right: if Wonshik knew where Jaehwan really was, he’d be even more upset.

\---

Jaehwan sits beside Hongbin in the chemo treatment room and tries to make him laugh. It’s harder than it used to be—Hongbin is more tired now and he’s heard all of Jaehwan’s jokes a hundred times—but Jaehwan keeps trying, for Hongbin’s sake, to keep his mind off of the poison flowing through his veins.

It’s been a month since Hongbin left everything behind. After breaking up with Wonshik he quit his job, stopped talking to all of his friends, and submitted his withdrawal application to the school. Now he’s moving to a tiny apartment where he can pay rent month to month, and Jaehwan is the only person he has left.

Jaehwan doesn’t feel qualified for this job. He tried to suggest that Hongbin call his sisters, but one is a flight attendant and the other has a family of her own. Neither of them, Hongbin says, have time for the extra work of caring for a cancer patient. Jaehwan wanted to point out that _he’s_ a full-time student, but he’s all Hongbin’s got and he can’t do that to him.

The tumor isn’t responding to chemo. That’s what the doctor tells them, at least. They’re trying a more aggressive approach now—longer, harsher treatments, more often than before, as well as targeted radiation that Hongbin has to suffer through alone—and Jaehwan doesn’t know if the tumor is responding but Hongbin certainly is. Jaehwan had thought Hongbin was thin before, but that was nothing compared to this. Hongbin is positively _skeletal_ , which is doubly terrifying on his tall frame. His eyes are sunken and all his hair has fallen out and he just looks so _fragile_ that Jaehwan is sometimes afraid to touch him.

He can tell that Hongbin needs his touch, though. He needs someone to comfort him, because he might always have been the strong one, but strong people crumble too, and this is hardly the sort of thing that anyone should be able to handle on their own.

After the appointment Jaehwan buys them dinner and they take it back to Hongbin’s apartment. It’s still sparsely furnished, but it’s liveable, and Jaehwan has a feeling that Hongbin plans to leave it this way. They eat mostly in silence, their knees pressed together and staring at some dumb variety show on TV without really seeing it.

Hongbin picks at his food more than he eats it, but Jaehwan’s used to that. Hongbin is usually too nauseated to eat, these days.

When they’ve finished and Jaehwan is cleaning up, he attempts to broach the subject that he’s been pushing at every opportunity since Hongbin told him the truth. “If I called him right now, he could be here in twenty minutes.” He doesn’t have to say Wonshik’s name, because Hongbin knows who he’s talking about.

“Hyung, stop,” Hongbin begs, aiming tear-filled eyes his way. Jaehwan is a huge sucker normally, but he can’t let this one go. He’s not the person that Hongbin wants beside him for this and they both know it.

Jaehwan drops down to sit in front of Hongbin and stare at him until he starts to get uncomfortable. When Hongbin looks away, lacing his own fingers together and idly playing with them, Jaehwan says, “He would want to be here.”

Hongbin huffs and it looks like even that is an effort. He seems exhausted. “But he’s not here, hyung,” he says quietly.

Jaehwan has a thousand arguments against that, not the least of which is, ‘You told him you didn’t want to see him again,’ but Hongbin has heard them all and they haven’t changed his mind. Instead Jaehwan reminds him, “He loves you.”

Hongbin says nothing, and finally Jaehwan decides that it’s been a long enough day and tells Hongbin that it’s time for bed. He helps the younger man up and watches him wander over to the bathroom, slightly unsteady on his feet. Jaehwan will stick around until Hongbin is in bed, and then he’ll go back to his dorm room, where Wonshik will hopefully already be asleep so that Jaehwan won’t have to pretend that everything is fine and that Wonshik’s boyfriend isn’t dying.

There are retching sounds behind the closed bathroom door, and Jaehwan can only close his eyes and wait for them to stop. He tried at first to go in and comfort Hongbin when he was vomiting, but Hongbin doesn’t want him there. Instead he just listens, and waits, and hopes that Hongbin doesn’t pass out and hit his head on something, because the last thing he needs is a brain bleed in addition to the tumor.

If Wonshik were here he would hover and dote, rubbing Hongbin’s back while he threw up and washing his face afterwards. He would hold Hongbin constantly and reassure him and always be able to distract him during chemo. But Wonshik doesn’t know that Hongbin is sick, and Jaehwan will never be Wonshik.

\---

Two weeks into Hongbin’s new treatment he falls. It’s not a bad fall—he slipped in the shower and all he’s got to show for it is a sprained ankle that will be in a splint for a while—but Jaehwan knows how bad it _could_ have been, and it only serves to remind him that he’s not cut out for this job.

He stays the night with Hongbin, and discovers just how little Hongbin sleeps these days. He’s tossing and turning the whole night, and sharing the small futon with him Jaehwan doesn’t sleep much either.

When he gets back to his dorm in the morning, Wonshik is there. He’s staring at something in his hands—a framed photograph, Jaehwan realizes, with the glass all broken out. “Why?” Wonshik whispers, the first word Jaehwan has heard him speak in over a month. His voice is croaky and sounds almost painful, but he continues anyway, “Why did he leave me like this?”  
Jaehwan sees how drawn and exhausted Wonshik is, how the flesh has melted from his bones from his refusal to eat. They’ve all been trying to help him, but Wonshik doesn’t want to be helped. He may not have the courage to take his own life, but if he continues this way he may not have to.

And then there’s Hongbin, who needs more than Jaehwan is capable of giving. Hongbin is weak and exhausted and cut off from everyone he loves. His _family_ doesn’t even know that he’s sick.

Jaehwan weighs his options. If he tells Wonshik the truth, Hongbin may never forgive him. But Wonshik won’t let Hongbin push him away once he knows, and he’ll be what Hongbin needs. On the other hand, if Jaehwan keeps the secret, they’ll likely both die alone thinking they’re unloved. Jaehwan can’t let that happen.

So he takes a deep breath, considers how best to say this, and finally blurts, “He left because he’s dying.”

Wonshik looks up at him. It’s like he didn’t even realize that Jaehwan was there. But his eyes narrow as he processes what Jaehwan said, and it’s clear that he thinks this is some sort of sick joke. Finally, the answers he wanted, but they only make everything worse. “What,” he croaks, and it’s not even a question. He just sounds tired.

The story spills out—what Hongbin did, why he hid the truth, and how Jaehwan got involved. By the end Wonshik’s eyes are red and suspiciously wet, and Jaehwan holds out his car keys. “Here,” he says. “I came back to shower before taking him to his appointment today, but I think you should do it. It’ll give you a chance to talk.”

Wonshik stares up at him briefly, gives a curt nod of thanks, and then he’s snatching the keys and racing out the door.

Jaehwan watches him go and remembers that once upon a time, he’d promised himself that he would never become a meddler like Hakyeon.

\---

Hongbin hears the front door opening and glances at the clock. It’s barely been half an hour since Jaehwan left; he’d expected him to take longer than that.

“Hyung?” he calls, trying not to let his voice sound too pathetic. Jaehwan told him not to move until he got back, and Hongbin was going to disobey just to be contrary until he realized how hard it was to get up on his own with his ankle like this. He’s been playing games on his phone, but he really misses having something to _do_. He’s not used to being this idle, even after several weeks of being cooped up here.

Jaehwan doesn’t respond, but takes off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. He’s being weirdly slow about coming in, and Hongbin says, “I think we should stop and get coffee on the way there. I feel like I can handle a green tea latte today. And you can get that stupid….” He freezes, because that’s not Jaehwan coming around the corner.

Wonshik steps into the single, tiny room that makes up Hongbin’s apartment and stares at him like he’s a man dying of thirst and Hongbin is a pool of water. “Hongbin?” he says. His voice is ragged, he’s clearly been crying, and Hongbin is never going to forgive Jaehwan for this.

\---

Hongbin is just as beautiful as Wonshik remembers. He knows it’s only been six weeks, but it feels like years since Wonshik last saw him. And Hongbin…he’s clearly been suffering while they’ve been apart. Wonshik doesn’t care if it’s because of him or not, he just wants it to stop. Because Hongbin…he deserves every single bit of happiness that Wonshik can hunt down for him and then some.

Wonshik staggers forward on unsteady legs and drops to his knees in front of Hongbin. “Idiot,” he scolds. “You should have just told me.” It’s not what he meant to say, and apparently Hongbin was expecting something sappy, because he hesitates, uncertainty warring with relief on his face.

Finally relief wins out. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But I didn’t want you to watch me die.” His voice is flat like he’s told himself that so many times that he’s forgotten why it was important in the first place. He reaches out and Wonshik pulls him into his arms, and his fingers run over the ridges of Hongbin’s spine and the ribs that poke out of his sides. Hongbin lays his head against Wonshik’s shoulder and relaxes into his touch.

Wonshik hasn’t had music—or even words—in weeks, but it’s so easy to start humming, to sing soft words of love and devotion against Hongbin’s hair. He knows this is going to hurt—he knows the pain of losing Hongbin now. But Wonshik could never be anywhere else, not when Hongbin needs him. He will gladly stay by Hongbin’s side until his dying breath. And after that?

He doesn’t know. But maybe Hongbin can help him figure it out.  



End file.
